Lonely Nights
by HoshikoIzumi
Summary: *WARNING, SLASH!* Samwise thinks of the after math of the War of the Rings one night when Rose is away. Thoughts lead him to Frodo's room, where he finds something he never dreamed would come true.


**This is what happens when you see no slash… SAM/FRODO!  Is there any better? No. Of course not. Enjoy!**

**~Hoshiko**

Lonely Nights

Sam felt horrible for Frodo. He was sitting in his study again, blocking himself from the rest of the world. Sam himself was sitting in his room, staring into the fire. Rose was not at home, she had taken Eleanor to her mothers. He felt terribly alone. He sighed and shifted his weight, eyes never leaving one spot in the fire. Good fire, warm and welcoming. A large contrast to the fire he had just helped fight. 

'Now, don't you get started on that Samwise Gardener.' He mumbled to himself. He had become very fond of using his new last name. 'You know right straight its nothing to fret over anymore.' Yet he was still reminded, and his heart still pained him. It pained him for Frodo, especially, but for Merry and Pippin also. 

The two showed no change, except a higher feeling of responsibility, now than before the quest. No matter what came at them, they were always ready to laugh in it's face and fight it. Yet, if all was quiet, and there was no laughter, Pippin tended to rub his shoulder, and Merry's face would twist into an odd pain. When Sam asked what was wrong, Pippin would simply answer, 'Pounds of troll landing on me seems to have set my shoulder off. It's nothing, just slight pain, Elessar said it would go away with time.' Sam had never believed him. It had been half a year, surely it would have fully healed by now. Sam needn't ask what was wrong with Merry; the memory of his struggle with the shadow was still with him. Yet the both of them hid their problems well, and only in Frodo and Sam's company did they show any sign of them. 

Frodo, on the other hand, hardly left Bag End at all. He could remember when Frodo would sit under a tree and read to himself in the sunlight. That was only two years ago. Now he wrote his book in the darkness of his study; Sam sometimes wondered if he slept at all.

Sam's thoughts were interrupted, though, when they was the sound of breaking glass in the other room. He jumped up immediately and went to Frodo's room. 

'Fro-' he started, but stopped when he found that Frodo was asleep. It seemed he had fallen asleep, head in his folded arms, and had knocked an ink-well on the floor. Sam sighed to himself and went to the kitchen for a dishtowel to clean the mess. He went and wet it in the sink, and when he returned to the room he began to clean the mess up. He stopped, though, when he could hear Frodo whimper. He looked up, and found his eyes closed tightly, fist clenched as if he held something in his hand. His breathing grew louder and Sam was immediately at his master's side, putting an arm around his shoulder. 

'Frodo, wake up, it's all right…' he said, and Frodo jerked awake, eyes confused and glazed over for a minute. After a moment they focussed onto Sam, and his fist unclenched, his four fingers relaxing immediately. 

'Sam?' he asked weakly, and Sam nodded. Frodo was nearly as pale as he had been in Mordor. 

'It's all right, Mr. Frodo, you're in Bag End.' Sam said soothingly, and the fear in Frodo's eyes faded as he regained full consciousness. It was heart wrenching to Sam, how Frodo's eyes had widened in fear of his own face. He cursed all of Mordor and the Ring for the pain it had put his master through. He pulled Frodo into an embrace, and Frodo relaxed in his arms. 

'I'm sorry, Sam.' Frodo whispered hoarsely, and Sam pulled back. He had the strangest urge to say 'It's all right, Frodo, you could never do anything wrong.'

'It's all right, Mr. Frodo.' Was all Sam mumbled, though, and went back to cleaning the ink. 

'When did that happen?' Frodo asked, and Sam shrugged. 

'You knocked it off with your elbow, I reckon.' Sam said, and wiped up the last bit of ink, throwing it away in the garbage receptacle they kept in the kitchen. When he returned Frodo was cradling his head in his hands, as if he had a bad headache, but there was no pain on his face; he was just thinking. 

'Why do you hide it?' Frodo asked, catching Sam by surprise. 

'Hide what, Mr. Frodo?' he asked, and Frodo looked up at him. 

'Something's bothering you. What is it?' 

'Nothing's bothering me, Frodo, I'm fine.' 

'It is me, isn't it?' Frodo asked, and Sam stopped. The last thing he wanted to do was tell Frodo he was bothering him. 

'No, Frodo. I'm just tired.' He said, and Frodo sighed. 

'Is that all?' 

'Yes, now, you seem rather tired, you really should try to go to sleep, you look pale.' Sam said, and Frodo stood, putting his hands on Sam's shoulders. 

'Sam…' he said, and the intensity of his eyes made Sam uncomfortable. There was something there… something different, but Sam couldn't put his finger on it. They stayed there, not speaking for a moment, until Sam pushed some of Frodo's hair out of his eyes. His master had been needing a hair cut for sometime. His hand ran gently down Frodo's cheek, and to his surprise Frodo welcomed it warmly. Slowly they drew together, and Frodo kissed Sam shortly on the lips. It was light, and hardly noticeable, but there all the same. 

'Frodo…' Sam's lips moved inaudibly, and Frodo smiled. 

'I love you, Sam, I always have.' He said, and Sam could feel a small smile come to his lips. 

'I love you too, Frodo…' Sam said, and they kissed again, unbuttoning their shirts.

Sam woke up the next morning, not feeling his arm. Frodo was laying on it. He smiled contently with himself, remembering the previous night. He looked at the hobbit, whose face was slightly bruised from the night before. No doubt his was, too. He put his arm up, and gently stroked Frodo's hair. His face was the most peaceful he had ever seen it since they started on their journey. 

A terrible thought then hit him; what about Rose? What would her reaction be to all of this? He loved her dearly, the thought of loosing her was unbearable. In his sudden panic he moved his arm, and woke Frodo, who groaned, and positioned his weight so he was more comfortable. 

'G'morning.' He said, and looked into the face of his lover. It was of fear, though, and he furrowed his brow, worried. 'Sam, what's wrong?' he asked, and Sam shook his head. 

'Mr. Frodo… I was just thinking… what about Rose? I don't think I'd be able to tell her, let alone expect her to understand…' he said, and Frodo nodded. 

'Do not tell her.' He answered plainly. He felt horrible that she shouldn't know, but no other solution poked into his mind.

'Yes… your correct, she musn't know…' Sam muttered to himself, and sat up drowsily. The morning had come too early, and Rose would be home at any time. He shared one more passionate kiss with Frodo, and went into his room, changing. 

'Thank you, Frodo.' He said to himself, and lightly touched his lips, where he and Frodo had shared their first kiss. 


End file.
